Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies
by caramel729cucumber
Summary: Between AWD and ASTP, Meg Murray's adventures were many and manifold. Here they are chronicled for the first time, anti-matter angels and all. R & R, please! -ON HIATUS FOR PERSONAL REASONS-
1. Chapter 1

**Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Time Quintet. **

**This story takes place between A Wind in the Door and A Swiftly Tilting Planet. I haven't read Many Waters, so I don't know where this is in relation to that. Please review! **

Meg leaned her cheek against the window of her attic bedroom and gazed down at the garden. Rivulets of rain trickled down the glass. She looked at the twins' vegetable patch, the little gem lettuces, tomatoes, radishes and peppers that Sandy and Dennys had tended to all summer and were nearly ready to pick. Meg sighed.

She did not want to go back to school. She had had such a wonderful summer, exploring the glens and dells of the countryside surrounding the old house and the sheltered sandy beaches of the coast not far from the village with Calvin O'Keefe and her baby brother Charles Wallace.

Charles Wallace. Meg thought of her baby brother – who was not such a baby any more. He was seven, small, quiet and very intelligent. She knew that Charles was far and away the cleverest of all the children in his class, maybe even in the whole grade school. It was just… he was so_ different_. His end-of-term report had read: "Charles Wallace is no doubt a bright boy, but he must try and work hard by himself instead of counting on others to work for him. I am sure that he would succeed if he were not so lazy."

This was a clear reminder of the way that he had learnt all the first-grade readers and arithmetic books by heart, as well as reading most of the books in the grade school library in his first year at school. This was admittedly unusual. _But surely it doesn't make Charles a cheat?_ Meg thought angrily.

Meg remembered last year, when she had gone into one of Charles's mitochondria and defeated the Echthroi to save his life, and that he had known – known – that she was there. He could tell that kind of thing. That was one of the many things that made Charles so special. But even without his mysterious powers, he would always be her little brother. Wasn't that enough?

Meg yawned and got up from the window seat. She went downstairs, automatically skipping the seventh step on the attic steps, which not only creaked but also sometimes made a noise like a gunshot. But as she came down the stairs to the kitchen Meg slipped on a patch of worn carpet and skinned her knee as she tumbled to the bare boards. She let out a cry of pain and Sandy and Dennys came running.

"Meg! Are you all right?" Dennys asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. She stood up, dusted herself off and went into the kitchen.  
Meg sighed as she walked into the comfortable, cluttered room where so much of her childhood had been centred. The glimmering light from the Bunsen burners in her mother's laboratory – where she was, as usual, making their dinner – was flickering on the walls and casting a warm glow on the polished wooden floor; the mismatched chairs were scattered around the table at random angles; the smell of stew was drifting in through the archway to the lab.

Why did everything seem so _complicated_? Why did Meg always have a problem to solve, an impassable obstacle in her way to success? When she was a child it had all been simple. A question had an answer; three to the power of four had always been 243. But now Meg was wondering if maybe three to the power of four was 562, or maybe occasionally it was 79 or 108. Calvin had been Calvin; Charles Wallace had been Charles Wallace. Yet… with these new developments, new feelings, Calvin may have become Mr Jenkins, and Charles Wallace Father, for all she knew.

"Meg," called Mother through the archway leading to the lab, "set the table, would you, darling?"

Meg just nodded and got up to start. But as she was making her way to the cutlery draw Calvin and Charles came running in, panting from the exertion of having run all the way round the orchard and back.

"Meg, Meg, you have to see this!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies – Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Time Quintet.**

**Hi! I don't think I did this story justice in my previous AN because it was so rushed… but I'll try now. I wrote it because I love, love, love the Time Quintet. I seriously do. So this is dedicated to Madeleine L'Engle.**

**The titles comes from the poem She Walks in Beauty by Byron (She walks in beauty like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies/And all that's best of dark and bright/Meet in her aspect and her eyes).  
**

**Thanks for reading. Reviews would be very much appreciated. **

"What is it now?" asked Meg. She tried to keep her voice light, cheerful, but it didn't really work.

Calvin's eyes were bright and excited. "In the yard." He was out of breath. "A – angels!"

"They're really there," insisted Charles Wallace. "More than one – at least four or five, I'd say!"

Meg didn't believe a word of it, but she got up from her chair without complaining, and followed her brother and her best friend out into the yard dutifully enough. With characteristic reticence she kept her thoughts to herself, but Meg's mind was buzzing.

_If Calvin's seeing angels as well, then it's not just Charles… well, maybe they're both seeing things, as usual. Because I never do. _

"Don't think like that, Meg," said Charles Wallace lightly.

Meg didn't say anything.

The vegetable patch was damp; crossing it was not an unpleasant feeling, Meg's feet sinking into the mud every other step. When they reached the lawn, her wellingtons were caked with mud up to the ankle. She imagined that she must look a strange sight: a fourteen-year-old girl in rubber boots, an oilskin poncho, and her faded old kilt, trudging across the pristine grass on a chilly September evening, with her hood thrown back, her glasses askew, and her wild hair frizzed by the rain. As they reached the orchard, the sky darkened. The rain was still falling steadily, and the drops were getting more plentiful, although they were not heavier – it didn't feel like a storm was coming, but that the rain would go on for ever. Meg pictured a sea of rain, flat and calm, extending over the landscape, covering mountains and forests, cities and valleys, and all the small rivers becoming mass of water. It was strange how her mind was at its best, its most creative and quick, not when she was at school or sitting alone at her desk chewing her pen, but when she was outside, in the real world, with unspoken companionship and silent friends. Those were her favourite times, when she didn't have to speak at all, when she didn't have to talk about how she "felt" or how she –

Charles Wallace pulled her from her reverie by saying, "Listen, Meg."

Meg shut her eyes and listened, but all that she could hear was the rustling of wind in the trees – funny how it sound like whispering.

_Listen harder,_ Calvin kythed to her.

_I'm trying,_ she replied.

_Listen to the voices._ That was odd. That had felt like Calvin, but not quite like Calvin… an extra note, an extra harmony, made it feel almost like Proginoskes' kythe had.

_Oh, Progo… _thought Meg, not meaning to kythe it, but her depth of feeling got in the way and the others picked up on it.

_Meg, please! Concentrate, would you?_ kythed Charles Wallace harshly. Calvin was more kind in his brevity:_ yeah,_ he kythed simply.

_Can you two please just **listen**?_

_Sorry._

There was silence in Meg's mind. She could hear nothing. Then the leaves began to rustle again. She squeezed her eyes tighter shut, trying to block them out. She listened for other sounds: nothing. Just the leaves. Whispering, whispering, secrets and lies...

The leaves grew louder and louder.

_It sounds like a storm's brewing, Charles... maybe we should go back inside? _

There was no answer.

_I'm getting wet,_ Meg kythed loudly to him.

Silence, but for the deafening rustle of the leaves.

_Charles?_

Nothing.

_Charles, where are you?_

The leaves could not be drowning out a kythe.

"CHARLES!" yelled Meg, her eyes squeezed tight shut against the torrent of rain cascading down on her. "CALVIN!"

She was terrified now, and that gave her kythe strength: _PLEASE! CHARLES! CALVIN! PLEASE!_

There was no answer.

Meg opened her eyes.

She screamed, silently.


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies – Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: These characters are not my own. **

**AN: I'm so sorry for the long, long, long, wait! I had some serious stuff to sort out, with this and other random bits and bobs, so thanks for being so patient. I really appreciated your kind reviews, though, everyone. Feel free to leave more, even if you have already, or review if you haven't done so yet.**

Meg saw nothing but darkness. Around her, the rain was falling silently, and all she could hear was the wind in the trees. She raised a hand to her face, slowly, and though she could feel her fingers, she could not see her hand.

This frightened her in a different way from the darkness – it was as though she didn't even exist.

She thought a few words, again and again:

_Charles… Calvin… Progo… Charles… Calvin… Progo…_

The sequence repeated itself in her head over and over, until she could feel it beating in her blood, her heart sending the thoughts of those she loved around her body to her brain, her disembodied self, the only thing anchoring her there as she floated in space.

It seemed like an eternity that she waited there, standing until she could stand no longer, not realising that she was on her knees for a long while after she fell, before a light shone through the all-encompassing darkness.

It was a small light, as though from a candle flickering softly, but it had some effect on Meg of galvanising her into action. She struggled to her feet and made her way across what had so shortly been her orchard – or rather it was as though she was drawn there by the light, like a moth to a lamp in summer.

_I thought it, and it was done,_ thought Meg wonderingly.

The light drew nearer to her, or she drew nearer to it – she wasn't sure which, although it probably didn't really matter. Whichever one of them was moving (Meg suspected it was her), the light grew stronger and stronger, until it was as bright as the sun, and threw Meg's surroundings into sharp relief.

Which made it all the more surprising that there was absolutely nothing there.

To be sure, there was the hard, cold, ground over which she glided, and the endlessly rushing wind, but apart from that? Nothing. Nothing at all, save the ever-growing light. In the glow of the light, Meg saw that the ground was a pure silvery-white colour – molybdenum, perhaps, in its perfect form.

Finally – after what seemed like an eternity – Meg saw the light for what it was. A little girl, only about eight or nine, sat cross-legged on the ground, reading by the gentle gleam of a small flame.

The little girl looked up at Meg with one green eye and one blue.

"Hello," she said quietly. "I'm Emily."

Meg tried to speak, but found she couldn't open her mouth. The little girl blinked once.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to put that one on you…" Emily flicked a finger in Meg's direction, and then another, and Meg suddenly found that she could speak.

"I'm Meg," she said awkwardly.

Emily smiled. "I know that." She left it at that, saying nothing more, just gazing at Meg silently with her disarming eyes. As Meg watched, Emily's eyes changed colour, blue morphing into a deep purple, green fading into brown.

Taking a second look at the little girl, Meg saw that she was very sweet-looking: her features were small, a little sharp perhaps, though not in a bad way, and she seem thoroughly absorbed in her book. As she read, she seemed to alter in appearance, blurring and re-forming. Her hair started off in a auburn bunches, then grew and lightened into blonde locks, settling into a short, untidy black bob, suiting her perhaps the best. Her skin, too, gently faded from a freckled rosiness to chalky pallor, then darkening once more to a light olive-brown. She had long fingers, turning the pages of the enormous book in her lap frequently, and her expression of concentration had the probing look of Charles Wallace – Meg wondered if the child was kything, or reading her mind like her brother did.

"What are you reading?" asked Meg eventually, just to break the silence.

Emily looked up with eyes that were now one bright scarlet, one electric blue. "Fairytales," she replied. "What else is there to read?"

"Anything," Meg answered immediately – not her planned answer, but her real thoughts. She had meant to be polite, to choose a happy medium of an answer, but the words just slipped out of her.

"I only read fairytales," stated Emily. "There's nothing else to read around here."

"Where is here, anyway?" asked Meg, curiosity finally getting the better of her.

"Oh, here and there, round and about," said Emily vaguely. "I think you might call it 'the other side' in your world?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Meg wretchedly, the words spilling over and tumbling out of her mouth inadvertently. "I'm so confused! How I get here? Where're Calvin and Charles?" She shivered, though she wasn't really cold, and felt painfully aware of some perceived inferiority to the child, both mentally and physically.

"Meg," said Emily, smiling, "I know that you and I are going to be _such_ friends."

She reached out a hand, pinched the candle wick, and then they were flying.

When Meg landed, the ground of molybdenum had disappeared, and they stood in a field that seemed to be of lilies. The air was sweet and pure, filled with the scent of spring, and Meg felt a sense of calmness surround her – like she was going home.

**(Another!) AN: Hope you enjoyed it! That was really hard to write, but now it's over I think I have some idea of where the plot is going, which I didn't before. Also, I just wanted to say that I'm not really going to include any of the "religious" element of the trilogy, just because that's not really my thing. It's just a bit of fun, this, but please do keep on reading!**


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